scent of rain . . .
an oak leaf rustles
out of time
October 2017
nightfall −
an absence of stars
closes in
spring deluge
all paths from here
all the same
darkness loved
with the otherness
of dreams
tragic flaw —
a yawning gap between
swan and goat songs
"it isn't what it is"
a child sounding out
trump-speak
dawn beach-scape
chill slashes of light
draw me in
valley spring
i listen for the folds
of the hills
restless dreams
the pasodoble
of neutron stars
thinking on nothing
my eyes also do not see
that which is unseen
my shadow sinks
under the weight
of my presence
all over the stain of words
in night visions
a beginning and an end
alphabetised
sourceless wind
fire licks open
a pine cone
noonday demon
a purr pads across
my chest
a wind chime
softens
the stacatto
dead-born child
all time and space
is a morepork
morning mist
words lost where the mind
can’t be found
moon glimpses —
death seems not so far
out of reach
dead silence
can the sea know
it consoles me?
spring forecast
i reverse engineer
my ancestry
god forsaken
in a gadda da vida
garden tears
no spring chicken in blossom
optical allusion
in the wink
of an eye
emptier even more night shadow
bent over reed
reliving the memories
i never had
static page
crafting the -ings and outs
of change
making perfect sense freesias
spring return
i try to live up to
my obituary
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